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One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing. But it was not so ordered. They were those of the Irish watchman. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you. I mean my cut-offs and boots. " She opened the book which she had brought to the table. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist.
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